The Popstar and the Writer
by mis palabras
Summary: I've cheekily borrowed Justin Bieber from around the 'Believe' album time, recast him as pop sensation Jacob Hunter and introduced him to writer Evie Burton. He chooses her to write his official story, and gives her access to his friends, his tour bus and even his Twitter account. Sound cosy? Don't worry. Evie's confident they'll keep their relationship strictly professional ...
1. Chapter 1

1\. At the beginning, there was the press conference

"Ladies and gentlemen of the press, we are in front of you today, proud and erect, throbbing with excitement ..."

Her fingers, skating across the keyboard of her iPad, capturing the mood of the packed press conference, momentarily stilled.

"... just seconds away from sharing with you video footage that documents the final thrusts of the last grimy, sweaty, few months ..."

Eyes wide, her eyebrows crept higher. She was the only one not feverishly transcribing every word the tour manager was uttering. The only one not to be wearing an expression that spoke of earnest concentration.

"... I can't tell you how excited we are for the moment when the magic of our tour will spurt again and again all over you guys, showering you in a celebration of ..."

It was too much - giggles exploded out of her tightly clenched lips. In vain she tried to smother her laughter with a coughing fit but to no avail. Making her excuses, she stood and pushed her way past her row of journalists, some of whom shook their heads condescendingly at her lack of professionalism.

Sitting on the stage at the front of the room, the tour manager noted her leaving. Straight faced, he bent to his notes whilst muttering to the pop star next to him, "Well?"

The pop star said nothing, just watched her walk into the sunshine of the hotel lobby. Listened to her laughter ring out helplessly before the heavy doors swung closed, enveloping the room once more in weighty, self-important silence.

Without looking at his tour manager and expressionless behind his dark glasses, he spoke once. "I think we've found our writer".


	2. Chapter 2

2\. A month later, there was the hotel bar

The later the hour, the smaller the group who sat round the chrome and glass table that by rights should have been buckling under the weight of beer bottles and wine glasses. Dancers, technicians, roadies – eventually all had been shepherded away by various clip board clutching mini bus drivers and motored off into the night, leaving Evie the writer and now official biographer, Jacob the pop star, Freddy the tour manager, Don the musical director, Alison the PA, Dora (Alison's girlfriend) the stylist, plus Ronnie and Reg, the security.

After waving good bye to Synch, the support group for the European leg of the tour, the others had pulled their oversized leather armchairs closer yet, blocking the efforts of the over eager waitress who – upon seeing Jacob ("You will never believe who was in my bar ... JACOB FRICKIN' HUNTER!") - had hastily rolled up her skirt, pulled down her top.

"… and that's when we decided to get the owl tattoos. It all made perfect sense at the time!" finished Freddy, pulling his sleeve up with a flourish to show the bespectacled cartoon owl perched inquisitively on his forearm.

"Wait," Evie spluttered, "so you all have one?!"

"Sounds like Shorty wants a show, guys" said Jacob resignedly, ruffling his quiffed blond hair before pulling up the sleeve of his hoodie. Don, Alison, Dora, even Ron, even Reg, began tugging at vests, jumpers and teeshirts, revealing an assortment of wise owls inked onto shoulders, hips and backs.

Still laughing, Evie shook her head and pulled out her phone to take a quick snap of the group posing with their talisman before clambering over the back of her armchair and heading for the toilet.

Jacob's team had been due to start the eight hour drive to Poland straight after that evening's show. Evie – taking it slower in her hire car, had a room booked in the hotel they were currently drinking in and had planned to meet them in Poland in a couple of days. But the evening had skipped along mischievously, it was now two in the morning and the coach driver had given up nagging, choosing instead to catch some zeds in his bunk, knowing that when Jacob and his crew eventually climbed on board they'd have to drive through the night to make their next venue in time for a decent sound check.

Cooled by the coral tiling and bright white porcelain, Evie took a double take at her unkempt reflection in the mirror. Jacob's show was an energetic one and it had seemed bad form not to dance with Alison and Dora from start to finish. They'd drunk beer in the wings; joking with the dancers and making Jacob laugh as he ran on and off the stage in between set changes, costume changes, battery pack changes. Evie hadn't giggled so much in ages. It was unusual, she reflected as she did her best to twist her wild brunette curls into submission, for a team to be so welcoming. Especially Jacob Hunter's team. She'd done her research; he'd been managed by the same crew pretty much from the beginning of his stratospheric rise from boy wonder to teen star and now, at just 21, a one man powerhouse. Typically, these long standing cliques were the hardest to work with and understandably so. From one extreme to the other, from his legions of fans to the backlash of negativity that invariably accompanied such success, his team had a constant fight on their hands to protect their talent; everywhere Jacob went, everything he did or said was marketable, one way or another. "Poor guy", Evie muttered as she swiped away the smudgiest of her smudgy eyeliner and reapplied the rosy lip tint that added a sheen to her wide smile. And then, marginally more presentably, she bumbled back out onto the corridor. Only to slam straight into a hoodied chest that seemed to appear out of nowhere. "There you are. C'mon Evie, we gotta get movin'" Jacob's voice said as his fingers found hers and pulled her along behind him. Before she could protest, they were shepherded quickly by Reg through a door into what looked like a tiny cleaning cupboard, which turned out to be … a tiny cleaning cupboard. The door was closed quickly behind them, the lock falling into place a second later.

Blinking in the darkness, Evie drew breath to ask what on earth they were doing but before she could speak, the floor began to quiver with the thud-thud-thud of running footsteps. The stampede was accompanied by what sounded like the wail of a thousand horny banshees … she looked up, catching Jacob's eye in the darkness and he smiled briefly. "Cubs?" she whispered.

"Yep. We think the waitress tipped 'em off" Jacob replied. His fans – his Cubs, were known as being the most loyal, the most supportive. The most obsessive, according to the media.

Evie listened to them barrel past, racing to reach a decoy getaway car that had been planted outside the fire exit. She wondered what would happen if they got wind that their idol was hiding just inches away. She shuddered, wondering what would happen if they got wind that he was sheltering with her, a female of the species, of child bearing age and sporting newly applied lip tint.

"You 'kay?" Jacob whispered down at her, solicitously. She was pressed against the only wall that wasn't stacked with mops and vacuums. He was crammed into the space with her, left arm propped up just above her head. His broad chest smack bang in front of her face, she couldn't help breathing in a little, inhaling his clean smell. "Do you ever wonder, what they'd do – if they caught up with you? No Ron, no Reg … just you and your Cubs?" she whispered.

It was his turn to shudder. "Not if I can help it. I mean, don't get me wrong. They're all kinds of amazing. But some of the letters I get, the tweets they send me. There's a few that are kinda …" he raised his eyebrows and exhaled. Evie made a mental note to investigate this area further; it would make for an interesting chapter of the book.

He moved his right hand up slowly, careful not to catch any of the duty rotas that were precariously hanging from a hook on the back of the door. Evie couldn't tell what he was doing until she felt a careful smoosh smoosh.

"God, sorry. Are my curls getting up your nose?" before laughing quietly, of all the ridiculous things to be saying to Jacob Hunter.

He replied, laughter evident in his voice too "A little. You really do have wild hair, Evie May."

"Evie May – where's that come from?"

"It just seems to go. Why, you have another name?"

"Like I'd tell you …"

Putting his hand down, he bent his head to better see her. Her curls boinged softly right back up into his face, not that he really minded. His eyes narrowed, "What, you have a horrible middle name?"

She grinned but before she could reply, the lock clicked open and light flooded the small room. The silhouette of Ron's bulk hid the worst of the glare; he reached in and guided the two out, his broad London accent a world away from Jacob's Californian drawl and not that close to Evie's Cornish burr either. "Right, most of 'em are screaming at Don and Freddy round the back so Jay, Reg's gunna drive you to the next gas station and you'll pick up the coach from there. Evie, love, I'm really not keen on leaving you here …" he was herding them rapidly down the corridor as he spoke, Evie had to twist round to reassure him. "Ron, really – I'll be fine. Once you lot have gone, I'll just fade into the background."

"I don't think so sweetheart, they've clocked you and are pretty suspicious. There are photos from tonight flying round Insta as we speak …" he pulled out his iPhone, tiny in his massive paw, and swiped through to a picture taken of a harmless water fight that had taken place backstage. The photographer had used a long lens to snap Jacob standing close to Evie, aiming his water bottle right down the front of the floaty tea dress she'd worn to his show. The photo had been judiciously cropped, editing out Dora who, Evie remembered, had been dropping ice cubes down his tee shirt and Alison who'd been swatting at him with a towel. What was left was a particularly cheeky expression on Jacob's face and Evie clutching at her cleavage with a wenchy grin.

Grabbing Ron's phone, Jacob scrolled as he walked, getting a feel for the comments that accompanied the picture. Grim faced, hazel eyes serious, he turned to his minder and shook his head. "You're right, she can't stay here now. She can have the empty bunk on the bus, the one at the back" he said, with an air of finality.

"Um, guys – I am here! And I can't just drive off with you. There's the car, my luggage …" Evie reminded them impatiently. Honestly, celebrities always thought they were first to have crazy fans. This wasn't the first time her face had been linked to a famous, all it would take was a little Googling and Jacob's Cubs would have their answer – Evie Burton, biographer to the stars.

Instead of replying, Jacob held the phone up for her to see. The same picture but with the help of some photo shopping, the water bottle swapped for a Kalashnikov and her smiling face replaced

with a weeping sugar skull.

"I see …" she said eventually.

"Look sweetheart," Ron said, "you go ahead with Jay and Reg, and Alison'll follow later after she's got your stuff and sorted the car. Media wise, we'll release a statement tomorrow explaining who you are but right now, it'll be tidier if we just keep you two together."

Evie scowled. She didn't appear to have too many options …


	3. Chapter 3

3\. Welcome to the Tour Bus

The layout of the bus was pretty similar to that which she'd visited before. Jacob's space was right at the back with a door shutting it off from the rest of the crew. The bathroom was to the right outside his room and the spare bunk was opposite, with a curtain for privacy. Another curtain separated her bunk and the bathroom from the galley kitchen, then four more bunks, the second bathroom and finally the living area – complete with sofas, televisions, games consoles.

She leant against the open door to Jacob's room, watching as he yanked out a tee shirt and jogging pants for her to sleep in. She'd already scouted out the bathroom, luckily Jacob was a good pop star who knew the value of his pretty face and therefore travelled with plenty of lotions and potions, plus spare toothbrushes. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little out of her depth. Despite this being the fourth biography of a famous she'd written, she'd never spent time with them so exclusively before. Whilst there'd been wild nights aplenty, she'd always had her own space to return to and gather her thoughts. Not tonight though.

Some time later, she was enjoying a hot shower with some serious product. She had to hand it to Jacob and his team, they'd done everything to make her feel comfortable, telling jokes and teasing him for giving her a tee shirt he'd already been using so it smelt not of detergent but faintly of the expensive aftershave she'd first noticed a million hours ago in the cleaning cupboard.

Stepping out of the shower, she got dressed quickly, rolling up the legs of the jogging pants and

untangling her arms from the baggy tee shirt. She wrapped her curls up in a towel and – calling out a vague "Night!" - crawled into her bunk.


	4. Chapter 4

4\. The Tour Bus – twelve days later …

A weighty silence spread throughout the living area. The tension was thick; nobody could tear their eyes away from the scene in front of them. Even Paulo the Spanish coach driver kept splitting his attention between the road ahead and the scene behind (CAREFUL PAULO, YOU'RE ONLY DRIVING JACOB FRICKIN' HUNTER).

Meanwhile, Jacob Frickin' Hunter squinted his eyes meanly at Evie Not-May Burton. Evie smiled benignly back. Alison and Dora shrank further yet behind the sofa cushion they were hiding behind. Evie shook the dice once … twice… and let them fall from her fingers to the table top.

There was the briefest hush before …

"SIXES! FUCKIN' SIXES! Boys, you just got OWNED!" Dora grabbed Evie's hands, all the better to jump around with whilst Alison satisfied herself by pointing and shouting L-L-L-LOSER into each of their opponents' disbelieving faces.

Finally, the three girls fell back onto the sofa, Evie stretching her arms high and rolling her neck to chase out the tension from the last round. She accepted a beer from Jacob's outstretched hand and laughed at his mock-sullen expression.

"Seriously Evie May, how d'you get so good at Sixes?"

"It's just luck Jay, has no one ever explained to you how dice work?" Evie threw him a wide, smug smirk.

"How dice work? How cheatin' works more like, anyway you don't get beer for that, that's just sore winnin'" and he tussled with her over the chilled bottle, causing the frothy liquid to bubble up, threaten to spill.

"You know all this fun calls for a snack, right?" decided Freddy.

Almost as one, the small group rose to their feet, loudly yawning and stretching. Freddy, unperturbed, reached up into one of the cupboards, pulling down a frying pan, a bottle of maple syrup and a pack of ham.

"Ooo yeah, Freddy's making magic tonight. You're with me, right Paulo my friend?" he called out to the driver as the rest of Jacob's entourage slunk away to their bunks and bathrooms; Freddy's cooking skills being second to everyone's, including Dora who had been known to char water.

Evie stood in the small bathroom she shared with Jacob, smoothing night cream onto her face. Cornflower blue eyes kept an eye on the proceedings in the mirror, ensuring she didn't leave any smears. She wasn't the slightest bit tired. They'd flown back into Europe that afternoon after a long weekend at the Vegas Billboard Awards and those 72+ hours had been enough to topple her body clock like a skittles strike. She brushed her teeth and climbed into a vest top and yoga pants, Jacob's tee shirt and joggers long since returned to him (freshly laundered, she might add). Calling out "Bathroom's free!", she climbed past the curtain that shielded her bunk and got comfortable. iPad propped up against her knees, she spent a few minutes watching the scenery fly past from the window that stretched the length of her bunk and then turned her mind to the document that she'd clicked open. Time to add to the growing bank of notes she was making for Jacob's biography. Whilst each of her biographies had been well received, she had an especially warm feeling about this one. Since staying the night on the tour bus nearly two weeks ago, she'd been told in no uncertain terms that it would be best if she stayed. Ron and Reg wouldn't hear of her resuming her original plan of trailing the bus and Jacob had also been keen for her to stay put, pointing out that he might do something interesting at any given moment and it wouldn't do for her – the official biographer - to miss it because she was staying in some cheapo hotel three countries back. So. She'd stayed. And had unparalleled access not only to Jacob but his whole inner circle too. In the short time they'd all spent together, the others had squashed up, making room for her at their table, their in-jokes, their late night conversations about life, love and the universe. When Jacob had picked up each and every award he'd been nominated for that weekend, she'd clapped and screamed, as proud as any of them.

Wrinkling her freckled nose to inch her glasses back up her face, she continued to tap away, remembering snippets of conversation and trying out words, phrases, to describe the whirlwind she was witnessing tear through Europe. Half conscious of a rustling behind her curtain, she turned her head at the whisper that suddenly reached through.

"Shorty? Shorty, you sleepin'?" 

"Um" she considered, "no?" 

"Great" and with that Jacob pushed past her curtain and climbed into her bed, hip bumping her until she moved up. Once he'd got comfortable, he drew the curtain and lay his head down on her pillow.

Evie blinked in confusion, feeling thoroughly hemmed in by his 6ft2 frame. But he wasn't looking at her. He was looking down at the bucket he'd made out of his tee shirt to carry … Evie craned her neck for a better look, snacks of all different shapes and sizes.

"I am starving. That trip has made me hungry at all the wrong times" he mumbled as he rifled through his scavengings, "but I'm damned if I'm gonna be eatin' Freddy's fried ham. That dude has sick taste … and not in a good way … ha!" and he triumphantly pulled out a packet of strawberry laces. Chewing half a dozen all at once, he offered her the rest. Ignoring the toothpaste that still lingered in her mouth, she accepted and soon they were munching their way through cheesy breakfast crackers, chocolate pretzels and chilli popcorn. As they grazed, they amused themselves with Evie's WiFi – outgrossing each other with RudeTube, playing their favourite songs and picking a handful of Cubs to tweet – and then a few more and then a few more still. Gradually, Jacob's presence at her side started to feel less alien, more comfortable. Her brain stopped freezing every time his warm, bare arm brushed hers and the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra stopped mattering as much too. Well, not that she made any sudden movements for fear of Boob Jiggle, but – y'know.

A particularly sharp bend in the road woke Evie from a deep dreamless sleep. Despite the rude awakening, she was too comfortable to open her eyes, instead relaxing further into the white tee shirt and broad chest that she was snuggled up to. She breathed deeply, enjoying the citrusy aftershave that lingered on its wearer.

White tee shirt … broad chest … aftershave?

Snuggling?!

She jerked upright in confusion, hitting her head on the bunk that lay empty above, "Oof!"

"Whassamatter?" Jacob mumbled sleepily from where he lay, surrounded by empty wrappers

from their midnight feast. His arms were outstretched, one behind his head, the other having made a convenient pillow for Evie. "I was … I was SNUGGLING you!" she blurted out in embarrassment, a warm flush billowing across her cheeks. Jacob laughed sleepily, patting the empty space next to him. "S'ok. Come back to sleep" like Sleep was a place they'd both been hanging out in. She paused, blinking heavily - a snoozy fog of jet lag clouding her brain, making it difficult to form coherent sentences. Jacob, losing interest in the not-even-a-conversation, rolled to his side, snagging Evie from behind, pulling her back and down, fitting himself to her body, right leg flung over her, right arm loosely keeping her close. Deep breathing soon followed and Evie, cocooned in warmth and comfort, was powerless to fight the heaviness that tugged her eyelids closed.

Sometime later, the morning sunshine poked Evie back into wakefulness. She stretched slowly, enjoying the warmth from the rays beaming in through the window. Jacob was still casually wrapped round her, his head lying on her curls, his breath gently tickling the spot behind her ear. He shuffled closer still as she stretched and Evie became aware of something else that was poking her. Her eyes sprung open and the rest of her body froze apart from a horror stricken expression that s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d across her face. Unable to stay still a second longer, an embarrassed laugh forced its way through her lips and, elbowing him in his hard stomach, she hissed "Jacob – Jacob, for fuck's sake – are you trying to get me pregnant?!" He laughed sleepily and rolled away from her, muttering something about being 21 and suffering from perma-horn. Utterly awake now, Evie decided she needed some space. What a strange night – the snuggling, the cuddling – the poking?! Oh God. Lines had been crossed and Evie needed to think.

She clambered over the snoozing pop star's legs, momentarily getting tangled up in the bedding, before exiting decidedly ungracefully from the bunk. She pottered through to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge to find a chilled bottle of water, looking to wash away the residue from the late night snacking. Freddy's voice startled her, she turned to find the tour manager looking fresh and clean, padding away at his iPad, "Is Jay still sleeping?" She'd forgotten about the bus rules, nobody was allowed to venture beyond the curtain that shut off her bunk, the bathroom, his space – if he wasn't in the living area, it was because he wanted privacy and his team respected that.

"Um …" she paused and frowned, still completely perturbed by the events of the evening.

"Ohhh …" Freddy replied, nodding.

"Oh?"

"Did he end up in with you?"

What? Did everyone know? Did everyone think they'd …? Her face fell, she turned away and gulped down the icy water, hoping it would cool the flush that burned in her cheeks.

"Oh Evie, hey – don't think twice about it. Jay … he, he doesn't …" Freddy's eyes darted nervously to the curtain, he got up and walked across to where Evie was still dying with embarrassment.

"Don't let on I said anything, ok? But Jacob doesn't always like to sleep alone. The kid's been living out of hotel rooms and tour buses since he was 14. He gets lonely. Between you and me, the reason Tiffany was kept on the scene for so long was because he didn't want to do this tour on his own. C'mon, he's really connected with you Evie, I'm not surprised he ended up gate crashing your bunk.

You know what he's like, you know how tactile he is …"

Before Evie could reply, the curtain was batted aside and the subject of Freddy's whispered conversation appeared and stretched, yawning loudly before reaching above to the pull up bar that had been especially installed. Without fanfare, he began to hoist himself up and down with an ease Evie and her soft arms were envious of. He spoke as he exercised, biceps flexing "Morning, Freddy. Where the fuck are we and when we stoppin'? The sun is shining and I need to get off of this bus and breathe some fresh air!"

As Freddy launched into a monologue that failed to answer Jacob's question but did give a detailed

discourse on the highlights of the journey they'd all missed due to being asleep, Evie sipped her water. She stared into the distance, planning her day, not entirely aware that her eyes had fixed on the inches of tanned, muscled stomach that was lifting up and down, up and down in front of her. Jacob, watching her watching him, gave a few extra lifts just for her benefit. He liked the feel of her eyes on him and was disappointed when she too-soon turned away from him to look out of the window. He finished off and raided the fridge, shaking his head free of troublesome thoughts that concerned short Shorties with warm curves and curls that smelt of cherries. 


	5. Chapter 5

5\. The Night Club

The deep bass throbbed hard, shaking the floor of the VIP area that had been reserved for Hunter-and-party.

And-party were partying hard; crew, musicians, admin. staff dancing outrageously, fuelled by the champagne the bar staff kept flowing. Hunter, however, was nursing half a bottle of warm beer and leaning over the safety rail that edged the room, peering down into the heaving mass of gyrating bodies below. An outsider might think that he was coveting missed opportunities, the chance to enjoy a night out, to dance anonymously, with no fuss, no attention.

An outsider would be wrong. Jacob didn't give a crap for missed opportunities; he did however give a crap about his missing official biographer. She was meant to be up there with him, laughing, talking, volleying careless banter back and forth. And of course, building up her dossier for his book. Instead, she'd been whisked off by some guy who – having shoulder barged her in a way that had made Jacob draw breath, ready to tell him to "Watch it!" - decided he knew her and had called out "Evelyn? Evelyn Burton?!" Evie had been swept away on a wave of "You must remember, don't you recall?" and Reg – aware of the growing stares from the crowd, had hustled Jacob on, leaving Ron to keep an eye on Evie. Jacob hadn't seen her since although had heard via Reg via Ron that Evie and the man were enjoying a drink on the piazza outside the club.

Shaking his head for the millionth time at one of his dancers who was beseeching him to join them, he grabbed a fresh beer from the ice bucket and slipped from the room, through the staff exit. He was feeling an uncharacteristic desire to be alone.

Out on the quiet corridor, the air was fresh and cool – somewhere a door was open onto the night sky and he set off, looking for an opportunity to breathe freely. Following the winding corridor he became aware of angry voices. He realised that taking the next corner would bring him face to face with the arguing couple and not having the energy to become a part of their row, which he would invariably would ("OH MAH GOD IT'S JACOB FRICKIN' HUNTER!") he stood with his back to the wall waiting for them to finish up and fuck off. He couldn't help but tune in though, and was stunned to hear Evie's voice, her words lacking their usual warmth and humour.

"Sebastian, if you think we're about to pick up where we left off because you bought me a DRINK, you are seriously deluded! It was one kiss a long time ago, one silly drunken kiss …"

"Don't brush it off as nothing Eve, we wanted each other then and we do now, why are you trying to fight it? And anyway," the man's voice dropped low, the drunken slur of his words making Jacob's hackles rise "You owe me – I lost Rachel after that kiss, there was no way I could go back to her after I'd had you"

"You. Didn't. Have. Me." Evie enunciated slowly and carefully. "It was a kiss, nothing more, why can't you OW, WHAT ARE YOU …?"

Jacob didn't stay to hear more, he rounded the corner to see Drunken Kiss Guy morphing into Drunken Assault Guy; he was doing his best to pin Evie into a handy corner but Evie was slapping and kicking him every step of the way, all the while cussing him out at the top of her voice "Get the fucking fuck off me!"

"You heard her," Jacob growled, dropping his hand heavily onto Drunken Assault Guy's shoulder, spinning him round and letting one perfectly formed punch send him flying. The sound of his head smacking the wall echoed round the corridor and froze all movement for a split second. Evie's face was ashen with horror and Assault Guy's eyes were near popping out of his head as he realised who it was who'd sent him flying. Then the tableaux stirred to life and Jacob shook out his fist, hoping his knuckles weren't cracked. There was the possibility he'd hit the guy harder than he'd meant to. Assault Guy licked at the blood that was dripping from his nose before beginning "Jacob frickin' Hunter …"

Jacob clenched his fist again but before he could move, Evie sprang forward and grabbed him, pulling him quickly away, stumbling as she increased their pace, before breaking into a run.

The empty corridor they ran down ended in a half open door that led to a tiny fire escape. Checking to see that they weren't being followed, Evie bundled Jacob through the door and slammed it shut behind them. They stood on a platform not really big enough for two, catching their breath, the cold night air chilling them from the outside in. Just as Jacob drew breath to check she was ok, he was surprised by a stinging slap that ricocheted off his left cheek. What the …?

"You dick! Didn't you recognise who he was?!" She pulled back her arm for another attack but this time he caught her hand by the wrist as it came flying towards him.

"What the fuck is the matter with you? I just saved you from that creep pulling fifty shades of crap!"

"I had it handled! I was in control! I didn't NEED your help!" Evie's voice was getting louder and Jacob winced, he had no idea what he'd done so wrong and certainly didn't think he deserved this level of grief.

Shaking her wrist slightly, he retaliated "Oh yeah? 'Cos from I was stood, he didn't looked too concerned about your crappy little bitch slaps …" At his words, Evie gasped and pulled up her left hand to send another of the crappy bitch slaps in his direction.

Again he caught her hand as it came flying towards him, leaving her weapon-less bar her legs. Not wanting a knee to the groin, he walked her the briefest of distances back to the night club wall where he pinned her struggling body from top to bottom with his height and strength.

"Now, how 'bout you give up on trying to attack me – the guy who stopped you from getting molested by the way, and tell me who I just KO'd back there."

Evie glared into Jacob's eyes, icy blue battling fiery hazel. She gasped for breath as adrenaline raced through her; not that she'd admit it but Sebastian's clumsy groping had unsettled her and she wondered if she would've had the strength to really fight him off. A vicious chill started at her hair line, shooting its way down her body. If Jacob hadn't come along at that point …

Jacob's body responded caveman-like to Evie's shivering, he pressed himself closer still, chest to chest, hips to hips, thighs to thighs. His grip on her wrists tightened as she pulled at them. He opened his mouth, he knew there was a question he needed answering but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was. He swallowed, his gaze never leaving hers. She gave a last, half-hearted wrench of her wrists which he ignored, instead giving into the magnet that was drawing his lips oh-so-slowly down to hers, touching once, twice, three times. Waiting until he was sure she was returning his kisses before letting her wrists go to wrap his arms tightly round her.

Jacob's phone began vibrating urgently. Followed by Evie's phone belting out vintage Madonna (true blue baby, she loves you) and the moment was shattered into a billion different shards that scattered about their feet as Jacob's team realised they'd lost their talent.


	6. Chapter 6

6\. Panic after the Disco

The man in the corridor had been Sebastian Vagner, CEO of Magic Media, a stable of 'news' outlets that included Muziik! a weekly Europe wide publication much beloved by the Cubs and subsequently Jacob's publicity team. Broken nose wadded with tissue paper, he spoke long and loud to all who'd listen about the assault until Reg gently (ahem) reminded him why Jacob had felt the need to introduce his fist to Sebastian's face in the first place, and any charges Sebastian had been considering filing quickly melted away. But the damage been done and the paparazzi – frenzied at the best of the times, turned positively rabid.

Meanwhile, back on the coach, Evie was taking advantage of the furore to quietly, quickly start packing up her things. In between retrieving socks from down the side of her bunk and scooping up armfuls of magazines from the living room, she scolded herself non-stop. Stupid stupid STUPID. STUPID!

She'd got too close, misjudged, misread. It did NOT do for official biographers to have Moments with their subjects. Everything had gone downhill since the night Jacob had shared her bunk. It had led to arm wrestling, play fights, shoulder massages. Shoulder massages! She cringed full force as she thought back; the line had been scuffed over so utterly she couldn't even remember what it looked like. Stupid.

She was in the bathroom, hurling various bottle and jars into a wash bag, when she heard the whoosh of the coach door opening. She froze. There was literally no one she wanted to see, she had disgraced herself completely; the aftermath of this evening had been like wearing glasses for the first time, she was suddenly able to see the whole flirtation through the eyes of the others and she felt like a fool.

"Evie? Evie, you in here?" Alison's voice, worried.

Evie swallowed, eyed the shower, wondered if she could hide.

"Evie?"

Alison again but closer this time. Evie grimaced, there was to be no escape. She called out a weak "Yep. Yep, I'm right here" before exiting the bathroom to deposit her toiletries in her now bulging rucksack.

"Evie, are you ok? Jacob's asking for you, he's frantic …" her voice trailed off as she took in the packing carnage.

"Evie? Evie, what are you doing?"

And shame on Evie for telling her friend that, news-just-in, her agent had been in touch - after having been trying for months to get a contract with Riley Harper, it was all systems go and Evie had to leave right this second, to catch a flight tonight.

It wasn't total bullshit, she was contracted to start with Riley. In six months' time. Not that Alison needed to know that. Not that Jacob needed to know that. 


	7. Chapter 7

7\. Four Months Later

Evie staggered off the hotel gym's treadmill she'd been pounding for the last 30 minutes. The chilled air conditioning had been no match for the speed she'd set the conveyor belt and she was flushed with her efforts to keep trim in San Francisco; land of double portions and home grown Chardonnays yet unfeasibly healthy Californians.

She walked purposefully through the lobby in time to the beats leaking from her headphones, oblivious to the additional security, the screaming girls, the harassed hotel staff who were scurrying about the lobby. She'd had a productive few months here in California; the Hunter biog. had been predictably well received, she'd got a head start on the Riley Harper schedule plus she'd managed to squeak in an authorized Everything You Need to Know about Synch, the pop group she'd met in Europe.

The phone calls from Jacob hadn't lasted long. It had been a pretty intense 24 hours following her hasty departure from the tour bus straight to the airport; he'd rung persistently every hour on the hour but once he'd realised that she wasn't going to answer, no matter what time zone he tried, the calls stopped dead. Phew! What a relief! All that – phoning! It had been driving her mad, what a persistent so-and-so. What could they possibly have had to talk about? There was surely nothing to say ...

The furore surrounding Jacob's fight with Sebastian had slammed the story into the Pop-Lore-Top-Ten; someone (cough-Alison-cough) had hastily leaked that Jacob had thrown the punch to protect a female colleague, the story was subsequently processed in the same way most Jacob Hunter stories were – vilification from the main stream tabloids (HE'S OUTTA CONTROL!) to next level adoration from his Cubs (OUR HERO! swooned a bazillion Twitter accounts).

On balance, the whole incident had done him no harm, had done him no good, had made for an interesting epilogue in his official biography. Just another chapter in the life of Jacob Hunter.

Evie shook her head free of Jacob shaped thoughts (how strange, she hadn't thought of him for gosh ages literally whole months) and ran the last few steps to the lift, stretching out a hand to catch the sliding doors.

"Nah, sorry love, you'll have to get the next one" a familiar voice instructed.

Evie had just enough time to recognise Reg's impassive face, his large body shielding a tall, tanned, black vest wearing someone - before the doors closed.

And Evie had just enough time to stare past the bodyguard at the someone, at where the someone's eyes would be if he hadn't been wearing the most ridiculous sun glasses, sun glasses in a lift for God's sake, who did he think he was, Jacob frickin' Hunter? Jacob frickin' Hunter ...

Before the doors closed.

Sweat, cold now, dripped from her hairline, trickled down her face and a child's voice whispered, "That lady's tee-shirt is all wet and yukky Mommy, I can see her bra".

Evie spun on her heel and marched to the nearest staircase, not about to wait for the next lift. Had she really just seen him? She stamped up the steps, taking them two at a time, sweeping past enormous posters advertising the 2014 Recording Artists Awards Evening that was taking place in the hotel ballroom that evening. What on Earth could HE be doing here? She reached her floor, navigating her way round clothes rails being delivered to guests attending the 2014 Recording Artists Awards Evening that was taking place in the hotel ballroom that evening. He was supposed to be in Canada, finishing off his tour, what could be the purpose behind a detour? Pushing open her hotel room door, she scowled at the flyer that had been pushed underneath, advertising the menu for the 2014 Recording Artists Awards Evening that was taking place in the hotel ballroom that evening.

Wait.

Could it be – could it be possibly be that he was attending the 2014 Recording Artists Awards Evening that was taking place in the hotel ballroom that evening?

Leaving her hotel door wide open, she sprinted back along the corridor, around the clothes rails, to find one of the enormous posters she'd just walked past. Scanning the information quickly, she soon realised exactly what he was doing in her hotel. Nominated for eight prestigious RAAs, at least six

of which he was a shoo in for, there was no way he'd miss out on this, Canada or no Canada.

Well. That was nice. She'd be sure to clap loudly when he won tonight. From her position as fellow RAA attendee. Riley Harper had also received a nomination and insisted that Evie attend with her to document the event.


	8. Chapter 8

8\. RAA RAH HOORAH

Evie spritzed once, twice, three times with her perfume before leaning forward into the mirror to rearrange her boobs and check for lipstick on teeth. Stepping back, she gave herself a thorough once over in the floor length mirror that hung on the back of the hotel room door. Her curls had been swept up into what Riley's hairdresser had called a bustle (organised chaos Evie had rechristened it) glossy curls tumbling here and there, dotted with the odd jewel that matched the heavy beading on the sleeveless black chiffon dress that was foaming and swirling above her knees. She was ready. She was Jacob Hunter ready. She even had an apology planned, if she could get close enough to him. Yeah, she knew damn well she'd behaved badly. Bolting like that, leaving him to face the publicity storm alone. Leaving him in general, really. And - since she was being honest, she'd missed him. Not that she expected anything from him, God no, not now.

But still.

She was determined to use the RAAs to right the wrongs.


	9. Chapter 9

9\. RAA RAH EURCH

The doorbell sang out once. Twice. Three times, apologetically insistent as it clattered through Evie's modest hotel suite. Only just hearing it over the standing ovation that had greeted Beyonce's epic RAA performance, Evie pushed herself up from the foot rest where she'd been sitting, her face just inches from the generous proportions of the TV screen. She pushed her glasses up her nose and stumbled over to the door, taking care not to look at the black chiffon dress with the heavy beading that was glaring at her reproachfully from where it had been folded neatly over the back of a chair.

In one swift movement, her eyes barely leaving the blaring screen, Evie opened the door, tipped the waiter and pushed in the room service trolley. If she noticed the waiter noticing the fact that she was wearing what amounted to glorified underwear, she ignored it. The opaque slip that was frothed with lace had been meant to stop the dress from clinging to her legs. As it was, it was doing a grand job masquerading as lounge wear as she recovered from the sudden bout of crippling nausea that had put a halt to her making it first to Riley's room, then onwards to the ballroom.

Leaving the cutlery neat and tidy on the linen napkin, Evie ate fries with her fingers, reaching into the bowl with the regularity of a metronome set to quick quick. Crippling bout of nausea? Crippling bout of inability to breathe the same air as Jacob frickin' Hunter, more like. Ok, ok, she was well aware that only absolute flakes pulled out of events like the RAAs and she'd have to make it up to Riley big time ... but. But. She'd been primed and ready to shoot out of the door at 7.30 on the dot, dress perfect, make up flawless, hair – well, the professionals had done their best - when she'd suddenly had an all singing, all dancing premonition about the night ahead. About trying to deliver her brief yet heartfelt apology to Jacob – trying to get close enough to deliver the apology to Jacob. And having to be turned away by people she'd once known, people she'd considered friends; Reg's carefully blank expression as he blocked Jacob from her view. Alison's rueful grimace as she explained that Jacob wasn't receiving guests at his table tonight. And then – perhaps worst of all, seeing past Reg and round Alison, at Jacob and more importantly at Jacob's arm, wrapped carelessly around the shimmering, bronzed, triumphant shoulder of Tiffany.

She couldn't do it, she just couldn't.

She crammed yet more fries into her mouth in a fit of self-loathing. And then another handful still as the compere announced that it was time for the first biggie of the evening; Best Album. Evie chewed quickly, not wanting anything to detract from this – her first proper sighting of Jacob. He'd be shown any minute now, his name first in the list of nominees, out of deference to the sheer number of albums he'd sold.

But – what was this? What was the compere saying? She could barely make out his words over the desolate howls of the disappointed Cubs, " … unavoidable absence … sudden bout of crippling nausea ..." Not waiting to hear the rest, Evie was on her feet, fries scattering everywhere. Crippling nausea, she knew an excuse when she heard one - he'd cried off which meant he was in the hotel somewhere! Perhaps with minimal security too, she took one last look at the television screen to see most of his entourage sat at his table raising their glasses to the camera, to their absent boss who'd scooped his first award of the evening.


	10. Chapter 10

10\. The Hardest Word to Say

Without pausing for thought, Evie dashed out of the door and headed straight for the lifts. She knew where his room would be, Jacob had a penchant for balconies that looked out high over city night lights, and the hotel was famed for its prestigious south facing suites on floors 78 and upwards. And thankfully, her status of biographer to the stars meant she'd been given the lift code to floors 78 and upwards upon her arrival. Evie had been nonplussed at the time, assuming it was in case there was a star emergency that needed immediate biographing. But she was thankful for it now, tapping it hastily into the lift's illuminated keypad. Her only problem now was to figure out which of the south facing suites would be Jacob Hunter's.

In the event, it was quite easy spotting which room was his. Mainly due to the fact that Tiffany was clinging onto one door handle in particular and arguing furiously with a pissed off looking Reg as he held her gingerly by the elbow and tried to escort her away. Wincing at the starlet's shrill whining, Evie took advantage of the disturbance to sidle from the lift to hide behind the potted palm tree that stood regally in the middle of the plushly carpeted hallway. Peeking through the fronds, she watched as a defeated Tiffany was persuaded to relinquish her grip on the door handle and head off down the corridor.

Standing tall and fluffing her hair, Evie took a brief second to regret leaving her room in her bare feet not to mention the frothily laced slip before she marched up to Jacob's door, knocking authoritatively before she could succumb to another bout of crippling nausea and slink off back to her room.

"Use your key, man" came a distinctly lack lustre drawl. Heart in her mouth, Evie paused a second before knocking again.

"What, you've lost it again? Jeeze …" came the voice again, this time less lack lustre and more pissed off. The door suddenly swung open to reveal the back of a topless Jacob Hunter as he mooched back over to a sofa that had been pulled through the open balcony doors and was littered with fast food wrappers and a couple of guitars.

Not really sure how to proceed, Evie cautiously stepped inside, pulling the door closed after her. Jacob's voice came again, "Dude, check out the beer situation would ya …" Padding softly over to the fridge, Evie grabbed a bottle and, twisting the cap off, walked over to the balcony where Jacob was desultorily strumming at one of the guitars. Holding the beer out, she waited till he reached backwards to grasp it before she took the last couple of steps that would propel her into his line of sight. And waited.

Upon seeing her, Jacob promptly spat out the mouthful of beer he'd just taken. "What the fuck. Reg? REG? I said no way, Reg!"

"Reg isn't here, he doesn't know, I swear" she replied quickly, anxious not to get the security guard into any trouble. "Listen, Jay – Jacob, I just wanted to speak to you, to … to apologise, I won't take up much of your time" she paused, blinking nervously at the quiet rage that was emanating from the still figure in front of her. He couldn't even bring himself to look at her, instead gazing wrathfully at a spot just past her right shoulder. Silence wrapped itself around the balcony, its tendrils squeezing the air from Evie's lungs, making her next words come in a tangled, breathless rush. "Well, here it is then, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left you to deal with the Sebastian, um, incident on your own. You were a good friend that night, the best actually, and I, I was not. And I'm sorry. For that."

Before she could add anything to the mangled apology she'd just stuttered out (it had sounded better in her head, honest), Jacob was on his feet and in her face, the gold in his hazel eyes glittering coldly.

"Lemme get this straight Evie May (the once affectionate nickname now dripped with derision), you're sorry about the incident? My whole LIFE is one long incident. You think I care about the journos, the stories? No. I care about you. I care about us. I care that you left me …" His voice dropped to a whisper, "Cared. Cared."

Somewhere a door slammed shut as tears welled in Evie's eyes, she drew breath to tell him that she cared about all that too and was it too late to grovel a bit more so they could perhaps start again, but his voice cut her off "I mean, look at you. Whose bed have you just crawled out of? That's a helluva effective way of getting your stories, who's the fool this time? You should leave me their number; we could compare notes on Evie Burton. Biographer to the stars" His face, inches from hers, sneered as his words flew like arrows into her heart.

Then Reg's gruff voice called out, "Jay? Jay mate, leave it now. Leave it" and the security guard came lumbering onto the balcony. His thick arm around Evie's waist, she let him walk her away, walk her back to her floor, her room, all the while with tears flooding down her face. "I didn't … I haven't … I wouldn't" she repeated, to the sound of Reg's soothing "I know, I know".


	11. Chapter 11

11\. And then ...

Evie staggered off the hotel gym's treadmill she'd been pounding for the last 30 minutes and made straight for the punch bags. Goodness knows her upper arms needed the attention and she felt a keen urge to hit someone something really fucking hard.

Pulling on boxing gloves, she began thumping in time to the thoughts that would not stop racing round her head.

How-thump-dare-thump-he-thumpthumpTHUMP?

Who-thump-did-he-thumpthump-think-thump-he-thump-was-THUMPTHUMP?

She stopped to blow an errant curl out of her face and to wipe sweat from her eyes.

"Need a bag buddy?" a voice from behind the three foot hanging bag helpfully enquired and Evie agreed, wanting to feel some resistance to her punches. She waited until a pair of strong arms braced themselves around the canvas sack before she let rip again.

How-thump-dare-thump-he-thumpthumpTHUMP?

Who-thump-did-he-thumpthump-think-thump-he-thump-was-THUMPTHUMP?

Her final THUMPTHUMP elicited an Oof from her bag buddy and she was gratified to see his arms flex as they struggled to contain the swing of the bag. And then a bespectacled cartoon owl winked at her from one tanned, tensed bicep and Evie froze.

Backing away from the punch bag, she became aware that the normally bustling gym was eerily quiet, the exercise bikes, rowing machines and treadmills still and silent. Almost as though some pampered, over privileged pop star had commandeered the whole place for his own use. The punch bag swung to one side and Jacob's face peered round to look at her.

"Finished?" he asked.

Ignoring him and her galloping heart, she searched fruitlessly for her towel.

He tried again, "Good work out?"

She scowled and kept searching, she would have like nothing better than to sweep out of the room with her nose in the air but her room key was looped onto the towel and she didn't fancy having to explain herself to the receptionist.

Leaning up against the punch bag, he held up the offending article, "Looking for this?" he asked.

Evie stared at him then past him. He'd pissed all over her (crappy yet heartfelt) apology and then called her a whore. And now he was down here, wanting to play cutesy with her towel? She took a second to channel her fury into the one judo move she'd ever managed to learn before launching herself up onto her tiptoes. Pulling her right leg up tight to her chest, she snapped it out towards the punch bag, catching it with the outside of her foot and sending it shooting backwards, its chains rattling in protest. The move caught Jacob by surprise and he was knocked off his feet, landing with a thump on his back. Momentarily winded, he closed his eyes to better catch his breath. Which meant he missed the look of anguish that flashed across Evie's face.

"Oh shit. Shit. Shitshitshit …"

The anxious notes in her voice soothed the surprise of the fall. Footsteps told Jacob she was getting closer and he lay still, waiting to see what would happen next.

Evie, heart in her mouth, dashed over. Could she really have knocked out Jacob frickin' Hunter? What if she'd done more than knock him out, what if he was …? She leaned over him and brushed his blond quiff off his forehead before moving closer to check his pulse. Her skittish fingers tickled and Jacob couldn't stop himself from smiling, just a little. Enough for Evie to notice though and, with an "eurch" of disgust, she pushed herself up onto her knees. Jacob sat up too and, reaching out, grabbed her upper arms. "Wait a sec, wait a sec. Don't go storming off now, you and I have some talking to do."

"I think I heard enough yesterday, thanks …" and with that Evie tried to struggle to her feet. Jacob renewed his grip which led to an undignified tussle, ending with her lying beneath him, imprisoned by his weight as he straddled her waist and defended himself from her slapping hands. Not ideal, he thought to himself, having previously been fundamentally opposed to pinning girls down, but then again this was Evie and nothing seemed to go as planned where she was concerned.

Evie, sat upon Evie, was righteously outraged. "Jacob, if you don't get off me this second I will scream blue bloody murder, just what is it you're trying to achieve?"

"What I'm trying to achieve Evie, is for you to shut up and listen. And then for you to respond nicely to what I've said. And for us ultimately to ride off happy into the frickin' sunset -look, just stop … stop hitting at me, will ya?" And with that, he wrapped his fingers around her wrists and leant over her until he could pin them to the floor behind her. His proximity left her breathless (what with all the important parts of his body pressing snuggly against hers) and she only belatedly tuned into his rumblings "Seems like whenever we kiss, I'm having to hold you down, a guy might start to have his doubts …"

"We are not kissing, Jacob Hunter!"

"Well, not yet we aren't but hang around cuz we soon will be" he replied with quiet certainty.

"Wait a second, what about the talking?" she reminded him, "last time I saw you, you accused me of bed hopping my way round floor 78!"

"Well, about that …" he replied, enjoyed the frissons that were sparking about the place every time she wriggled against him. "I'm sorry I said what I said. And I know you're sorry for leaving me to deal with 'the incident'" he quoted her, gently mocking. "So can we just ... move on to the good bits?" And his face lowered to hers, lips gently tracing the curve from her ear to her jawbone.

And for once, Evie Gretel Phyllis Burton couldn't think of a single thing to say.

So she didn't.


End file.
